Downpour: A Grumpy Sunshine Romance (The Griffith Brothers Book 2)

We pulled out of the parking lot in silence, but Brooke never let go of my hand. Even when she drove over the curb.

I had never admitted any of that to anyone, not even before the accident. My public persona was built on being the carefree, unattached wild child. My sponsors didn’t want the doting uncle. The brother. The kid from the ranch in Temple, Texas, who wore his heart on his sleeve.

They needed the guy who rode hard, stripped down for photoshoots, and partied.

So, I put the kid I used to be away.

Without the cameras, the lights, and the glory, all that was left was torn skin and broken bones. My body gave up on me before I was ready to quit.

I used to think about what I would do after I was finished with the rodeo circuit, but I never made a plan. I considered going back home to Colorado, packing up my life, and traveling for a while. Maybe going further West to California or North to Wyoming.

Once, I even threw darts at a map, hoping to decide where I would end up. But sinking those little silver tips into Laramie, Wyoming, Marion, Iowa, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, and Wilmington, North Carolina didn’t bring any clarity.

I never expected to be back on the ranch for good. I liked visiting and I missed it, of course. I missed my brothers, parents, and nieces. But coming back when I had finally gotten out wasn’t part of the plan.

And now, I was leaving again.

Except for a few supervised trips to see specialists in Dallas, I never left the ranch or my town anymore.

Leaving this afternoon with Brooke was different. We were getting away just for the hell of it, and it felt so fucking good.

I wasn’t accustomed to this feeling. But recently, I had been feeling really good. It was all because of her.

The sex was incredible. But it was also the comfort and ease I felt with her that truly mattered. I didn’t have to pretend or put on a show.

Brooke didn’t look at me the way my family did—with pity. She didn’t treat me like the buckle bunnies who latched onto riders every season to be their meal ticket. She looked at me like I was the one she wanted to spend every moment with.

As Brooke pulled into the lot of the Maren Motel and parked in front of the office, memories flooded back. I had stayed here before. It was a simple place, but clean and well-maintained. But those memories felt like they belonged to another man in another life.

While she went inside to book a room, I sat in the cab and worried about everything that had spilled out of my mouth.

Talking about going on dates. Holding her hand. Our wedding and future children.

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. Why had I said all that shit out loud?

She was going to think I was trying to pressure her into something she wasn’t ready for.

The last thing I wanted was for Brooke to feel obligated to stay.

I watched through the window as she skipped out of the office with a room key in her hand.

She was wearing another pair of iconically short denim shorts. Her tanned legs were a fucking dream. A sliver of her stomach peeked out of the bottom of her tied-off tank top. Her thick hair was in a bun on top of her head. She had the most graceful neck and delicate jawline.

Brooke tapped on the window, and I rolled it down. “3A is ours. They only had one accessible room left, so it looks like we got here just in time.”

Room 3A was neatly furnished with a standing shower, a mini-fridge, a microwave, a TV, and a single king-sized bed.

“Do you mind sharing? I can sleep on the floor if you want the whole thing. It won’t bother me at all,” she said.

I chuckled. “It’s fine. We can share.”

It was more than fine.

“So,” Brooke said as she tossed a duffle bag onto the chair by the window. “You seem like you know this town. Is there stuff to do around here?”

“There’s a bar not too far from here,” I said as I parked my wheelchair beside the bed and locked the brake. “They’ve got good live music.”

“That sounds fun. Do I have time to change?”

I eased up onto the bed, sat against the headboard, and laced my hands behind my neck. “Yeah.”

Brooke was bent over, digging through her bag. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. A sly smirk slid across her face. “And you’re just going to watch?”

I licked my lips. “You gonna give me a show?”

Her cheeks flushed a sunset pink. Brooke bit her lip as she unbuttoned her shorts, unzipped them, and wiggled them off her hips.

I adjusted my cock as I looked at the pair of light blue panties that barely covered her ass. “Goddamn, you’re a sexy little firecracker. Keep going.”

Brooke lifted her loose tank top over her head and tossed it into her bag. The bra she wore had been teasing me through the low-cut arms of her tank top during the drive out here.

“You look good in lace, baby girl. Hands behind your back. Let me see you.”

She looked bashful, tipping her head to the side and rocking her shoulders back and forth as I enjoyed her breasts.

I patted my thigh. “Come here, pretty girl.”

Brooke hurried to the edge of the bed, then slowed. The mattress sank as she crawled up, prowling toward me. Her tits hung heavy in front of me, cradled by the lace.

I could still smell her shampoo—floral and light. It made my dick stand at attention.

She straddled me, smoothing her hands down my chest. I reached up and found the elastic she used to tie her hair up. My blood pressure started to simmer when I couldn’t get a grip on it after three tries, but Brooke paid my frustration no mind.

Her mouth was warm and soft against my throat as she kissed up to my jaw. Her soft pants against my skin made my cock rock hard. Finally, I got my finger around the elastic and pulled it out.

I dug my hands into her hair and brought her mouth to mine. Brooke let out a soft sigh and melted against my chest. I kept one hand in her hair and palmed her ass with the other. She slid her tongue into my mouth, letting desperate, depraved sounds float between us.

A whimper escaped her lips when I pulled her bra straps off her shoulders and flipped the cups down. I pulled a pebbled nipple into my mouth and sucked.

Brooke threw her head back and moaned. “Oh god, yes—Ray—“ She gasped as I teased her pussy through her panties. “Make me come.”

I chuckled and released her tit. “It’s funny that you think you call the shots around here.” I cupped her cheek and wiped the sheen of saliva off of her lips with my thumb. “Now get dressed.”

The lips that had been praying my name turned to a frown. “But—” She sunk down and rolled her hips, teasing my cock with her pussy.

“We’ll finish this tonight. Maybe I want to watch you listening to the band, drinking a beer, and know you’re already wet for me.”

Brooke bit my lower lip and sucked on it, teasing me as she worked herself against my dick. “You’re mean.”

She had the words, but didn’t have the music.

I cupped her pussy to stop her from edging any closer to an orgasm. “And if you come right now, I won’t let you come for a week.”

Brooke grumbled under her breath as she followed my directions to The Silver Spur. Watching her get ready had been a bigger tease than making out. It was as if she was trying to get in my head by deciding she wanted a different bra and pair of panties.

Watching her strip down was a tease; seeing her get dressed was agony.

I let my gaze wander over the shredded denim shorts and busty tank top she was wearing. The front was low, the sides were missing, and the back started and ended at her waist.

It was going to be a long few hours of keeping my hands mostly to myself, but the idea of hanging out at a bar for a few hours and watching a set wasn’t half bad.

It felt… normal.

Brooke pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “Do you know the layout inside?”

I wracked my brain. “It’s been a few years since I’ve been here, but it’s pretty tight. Lots of tables. I think they have a ramp in the back.”

Her pretty features twisted into a look of disgust. “That’s ridiculous.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Want me to go scope it out and grab a table?” she offered as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

I opened my door. “Nah. Let’s just bite the bullet together.”

I waited until she pulled my wheelchair out of the truck bed before I spoke up again. “Besides, you in those shorts? No way in hell I’m letting you walk in there alone.”

Brooke blushed. “Sounds like you’re staking your claim.”

I settled into my chair and slid my hand up the back of her thigh, squeezing her ass. “Yes, ma’am.”

I clenched my teeth as she helped me navigate the wheelchair over the lip of the sidewalk, but tried my best not to snap at her.

While Brooke got carded at the door, I peered inside and planned my path. It was crowded, but not too packed. We made it inside just as the dinner rush began, seconds before it became wall-to-wall with people.

“This place is such a vibe,” Brooke said as she walked behind me, taking in the neon signs, stage, and mechanical bull. “I’m obsessed. Do you know the band?”

“No,” I said as I spotted an empty high-top table. “I need a hand.”

Brooke’s palm felt soft as she slid it into mine and helped me up. I grabbed the edge of the table and stretched to my full height before settling backwards onto the tall chair. She folded up my wheelchair and stowed it between my seat and the table, keeping it out of the way until I needed it.

I’d probably stay in this seat all night, but it felt good. Normal. Something I hadn’t felt in a while.

“I’m gonna grab some drinks,” Brooke said before heading to the bar.

From the high-top, I had a clear view over the heads of the bar patrons. I could watch people play pool and darts. I watched the musicians fiddling with the amps and instruments on stage. A woman was at the padded ring where the mechanical bull was set up, sweeping and making sure it was clean.

A lump formed in my throat. The old me used to love coming here when I was nearby and had time off.

“Excuse me,” a feminine voice said, but it wasn’t Brooke’s.

I looked over my shoulder at the redhead who was hanging off the back of my seat. She had big green eyes, a blinding smile, and something mischievous in her gaze.

Her tone was sugar-sweet as she laid a manicured hand on my thigh. “This is going to make me sound crazy if I’m wrong, but are you Ray Griffith?”

Her serpentine posture made it very clear that she knew exactly who I was.

I kept my eyes on Brooke. Her back was arched as she leaned on the bartop, waiting for our drinks.

“I used to be.”

She slinked closer. “The tattoos give it away. I watched your last ride in Houston. I’ve always been a big rodeo girl. What are you doing these days?”

Brooke’s hips swung as she grabbed two beers from the bartender and elbowed her way back to the table.

The redhead looked Brooke up and down when she sidled up to the table and placed a beer in front of me. “Still pulling buckle bunnies, I see…”

I was about to tell the woman to get lost when Brooke’s smile lit up the room. “Oh my god. You’re the sweetest. Thank you.”

The woman sneered. “That wasn’t a compliment, honey.”

“Oh?” Brooke plucked the woman’s hand off my thigh, promptly removing it before coming to stand between my parted knees. “Because it sounded like you think I’m hotter than you are. So, yeah. If being hot and getting laid by a bull rider who fucks like a god makes me a buckle bunny, then give me a belt and some rabbit ears, sweetie.”

I… I had hallucinated that, right?

Brooke slid her hands up my chest and draped her arms around my neck. She looked over her shoulder at the gaping redhead. “Feel free to pick your jaw up and leave when you’re done staring at my ass.”

And with that, she tilted her head to the side and kissed me as she raked her hands through my hair.

I barely noticed the woman stomping off. “You are something else,” I murmured against Brooke’s mouth before going in for another kiss.

Her grin was feline. “No one touches my man.”

It had been a while since I’d fallen. But this time, I didn’t mind. My gait and stability were no match for Brooke. Because just like that, I fell.